Back and Forth
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Post 6.2 discussion between Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. Just how is their mood after the excitement of the animal show? Will Mrs Hughes insist on being in charge of the wedding plans?


**Set immediately after the end of episode 6.2. Only minor spoilers. But it would make more sense if you'd just watched that eppy.**

Elsie slowed her pace as she neared the wagonette. Mr and Mrs Bates were already seated in its back tray, their heads tipped together as they whispered confidences. It made her pause with regret. Yes the Bateses were younger than she and Mr Carson, but she was still envious at how quickly they'd adapted their behaviour once they'd married. They easily balanced out acting affectionately within the boundaries of propriety of the household.

She was also quite envious of the way they'd married - without any grandeur or fuss.

"Mrs Hughes." She turned. It was young Andy, kindly offering to help her into the back of the wagonette. What was it she'd told him earlier? That walking alone was equal to independence? Something along those lines. Her independence had been chipped away over the last few weeks so much she now felt like it was something one only read about in novels.

"We're just waiting for Mr Carson," the young footman informed her.

"I know," she snapped, quite unnecessarily. It wasn't the young footman's fault that Mr Carson was negotiating the price of driving the abandoned Lady Mary home with one of auto-owning villagers. It wasn't the old butler's fault either, her conscious reminded her. He was only doing his job.

"Thank you, Andy," she said, adjusting her tone so that the words came out less brusque. "But I think I'll wait for Mr Carson."

And there it was, she thought. Reality. What independence? Really, she couldn't even sit in a back of a wagonette alone? She was waiting for him to accompany her every time she left the house? She needed to be by his side when the smallest of crises cropped up?

Frustrated, she turned and searched the busy street. It took no time at all to locate his familiar bulk. He stood out in a crowd, now more so as he balanced a young child upon his hip.

Involuntarily, she walked towards him, until they came together on the cobblestones outside the Plough Inn pub, a few yards away from where the wagonette was waiting. "I'm sure Master George has his own legs, Mr Carson," she fretted, only just managing to soften her words with a smile. "We don't want you to put your back out."

He leaned over then, whispered something in Master George's ear that made the boy's eyes, which she'd just been thinking looked a little red-rimmed and tired, light up instantly.

"I've found transport for Lady Mary but it's rather cramped," he told her. "Master George, therefore, is going to ride back to the house with us."

"Please, Mrs Hugh?"

She quickly reached out and ruffled his blond hair. "Of course, Master George. Our ride will be an adventure, no question."

A moment later Mr Molesley was standing in the wagonette, reaching over the side to haul the child up and into the back.

Her future husband then gripped her upper arm to politely help her into the vehicle where she eased herself into one of the vacant seats. In turn, he lowered himself into the one beside her, his high knees bumping into hers comfortingly.

"You need to sit, Master George, case you fall," she said as the wagonette groaned out of its parked position and into a roll.

"Yes, Mrs Hugh." The lad nodded obediently and chose a seat. On her lap! Not that she minded really. He was a bonny child. But it would make continuing her conversation with Mr Carson around the reception awkward, she supposed with a resigned sigh.

"There's more to this Marigold thing yet, isn't there?"

She jumped. Mr Carson had turned his head, overtly to look out at the view over his shoulder, but it allowed him to whisper his words directly into her ear.

"Marigold thing?" she murmured in a high pitched voice.

Only it seemed her attempt at an innocent tone didn't quite work. "Don't bother to deny it. Your face earlier, and now, tells me I'm in the dark again. Anna's attack. Your sister. Is there anything you _are_ willing to tell me?"

He stretched his leg, knocking George and bumping her thigh. Not so much that it hurt; only so much that she was reminded of his nearness. She liked it.

She inhaled, ready to do battle anyway. "It's not that-"

He cut her off. "I know, I know. To start with, I'm a man."

She blinked slowly. "Yes," she rasped, turning her head to capture his gaze. "I remember."

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as the suggestive tone with which she had unknowingly laced that last short statement. Eventually though he cleared his throat and spoke: "Some men…I know it's usually tradition to leave these things to the brides. But…"

She bit her bottom lip. "All my life, I've been a good person, Mr Carson," she whispered emotionally.

"Of course you have," he blustered immediately.

"And I've always done as I've been told."

"For the most," he dared to tease, eliciting from her a small smile.

"For everything important," she agreed. "I spent most of my life either putting Becky's needs first or being at my employer's beck and call. I was trying to think of when I truly asserted my independence, and the only time I remember, truly, was refusing Joe. I wonder why that was?" she asked, as much of herself as of him.

He puffed out his chest. "I'll never begrudge you that one stance," he asserted pompously, making her laugh.

"What I'm trying to say is…"

What was she trying to say? This time, she wasn't going to do as she was told? But why? Mr Carson's reasons for having the reception at Downton were all quite valid. He was, as he'd quite rightly pointed out, the groom with half as much right as she in making decisions regarding the day.

"But… You should know. I'm only planning on being a bride once." She looked up after that declaration, tilted her chin high while still meeting his gaze again. "I shall only need to marry once, and be the bride once," she repeated.

He surprised her by breaking eye contact, looking instead up to Master George. "You're much too heavy, young man," he told the child. "You need to wriggle off Mrs Hughes for a moment, save her legs. Put your weight on me for a while, there's a good boy."

After a moment of arranging the child until he was, in a way, sprawled out across both their laps, Mr Carson returned his attention to her. "Master George is now blocking our fellow passengers' view."

Her jaw dropped at the information he'd just softly imparted.

He leaned closer still.

She gasped. "Mr Carson, you never would."

He chuckled. Then, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, kissed along her knuckles.

"As long as you won't jilt me at the altar, Mrs Hughes," he pleaded, turning her small hand over to kiss her palm.

She was being ridiculous, she supposed. Having a groom who should remain true was more important than where he'd ask her to dance afterwards, surely. "I shall never jilt you at the altar, Mr Carson," she promised faithfully as he brushed a kiss across the light blue and green veins which were so prominent on her wrist.

Just then, Master George jumped up and danced around the back of the wagonette before plopping himself into Mrs Patmore's lap. All attention was focused on the child and the cook's reaction luckily, giving Elsie and Mr Carson a moment's reprieve to drop their hands and shuffle away from each other as their shield was now unavailable.

To deflect some argument, Mr Bates grabbed the boy at one stage, pointing out into the field as they passed, whispering some secrets. Elsie noticed Anna's focus on the charming scene too, evoking guilt on Elsie's part.

Elsie had suspected recently there might be some problem with Anna being able to have her own bairn; Elsie prayed it was nothing to do with the violation Anna had been subject to. And she should remember the younger couple's rushed and plain wedding had been a direct result of an impending gaol sentence.

"I've become a selfish old woman," she whispered, realising her early envy was completely misplaced.

"Don't be silly, Mrs Hughes," Mr Carson quickly responded. "We'll iron out all the wedding details soon enough."

She decided to let things go for the minute, and allowed herself to be lost in the view as they swayed along the road leading to Downton.

Later, something occurred to her though. "What did you whisper?" she asked. "Earlier. When we met on the street. To Master George."

Mr Carson laughed heartily. "You do not need to know."

"Of course I do!" she rebuked immediately.

He smiled.

"I merely pointed out my pretty fiancee."

"That isn't true."

"It is all true." He exhaled a put-upon sigh before explaining fully. "Master George was a little upset. Lady Mary had been unnecessarily stern following his performance at the motor. Space wasn't quite as limited as I led you to believe. He was scared, that's all. To go with strangers, in a different car, I'm not completely sure why, but he stamped his feet and cried out at the top of his lungs, refusing to budge, despite his mother's best efforts."

"Oh, the poor wee lad."

"On the way back here I'd been telling him how we had just had a disagreement too, trying to explain, probably not as eloquently as you would I'm sure, that only those completely in love felt safe enough to argue. And that he could be safe his mother loved him dearly, no matter how harsh her words seemed sometimes. So I said, 'See, Mrs Hughes has scolded me this week, but she is still going to marry me come April.' And he asked how I knew this to be true. I told him that if you smiled as we approached the wagonette, I would know."

"I smiled?" she asked, trying to remember exactly how she'd reacted. She had been irritated at the time. "I smiled at Master George perhaps?"

"You gave him an indulgent smile, yes, but that wasn't the smile I noticed. The one I saw was meant for me and it lit up your entire face, reaching your eyes, making them shine. 'See, Master George, that's the pretty girl who will marry me,' I said."

She smiled then - indulgently, fully, hoping it lit up her face and her eyes.

"And that's completely true," he said again.

"Yes," she agreed, leaning her body closer, "that is completely true."

The End


End file.
